Chapter 8
Grant
I wait on the front porch with Colin as Heather’s car leaves the driveway. Even from here, I can see April’s excited face as she waves goodbye from the passenger seat.
There’s something unexpectedly satisfying about seeing them off, knowing that at least one part of their day has been handled successfully. They’ve had breakfast, they’re on time, and April has everything she needs for her first day at school.
“She seems like a good kid,” Colin says as we head inside the house.
“Yeah, she is.” I stop in the front closet and grab my gear bag, then haul it into the kitchen to pack my lunch. “Her mom has done a hell of a job.”
Colin is already pulling his cleaning supplies from under the sink. He never moves too fast, but he’s always methodical and efficient. I’ll take those qualities over mindless speed any day of the week.
“The mom—Heather, was it?—does seem nice,” he says as he starts moving around the kitchen collecting dishes from the hectic morning.
“She is nice. Really, genuinely nice.”
“Pretty too.”
I shoot him an irritated look that he completely ignores. “What? I’m old, not dead. And you’re not getting any younger either, you know.”
“Colin.”
“Fine, fine. I’ll mind my own business.” He holds up his hands in a mock surrender, but there’s a twinkle in his eye that tells me he’ll probably be circling back to this particular topic at some point.
“It’s good to see you helping them out. Especially since it means there will be a little more life in this big, empty house of yours. ”
“Thanks,” is all I say for now. I’m not willing to admit—not out loud, anyway—that he’s right.
This house, and my life in general, has felt pretty damn empty for a while now.
And even though I didn’t consciously invite Heather and April over to fill a space in my life that’s been lacking, I can’t say I haven’t enjoyed their company.
They haven’t even been here for two full days yet, and have only disrupted my routine in the tiniest of ways, but everything I do feels different somehow.
The truth is, I’ve never put anything or anyone above hockey. Even when I was a kid, I only got good grades so I could get out on the ice.
That’s always been the priority, and it’s always dictated every other decision in my life, no matter how big or small.
Hiring Colin to help me take care of this place is the only recent exception I can think of.
After his wife and son passed away, I knew my elderly neighbor needed something to occupy his time and his thoughts.
I’m sure the extra bit of income helps, too, but mostly I just wanted to be there for him because I know how it feels to lose everything that normally grounds a person in the blink of an eye.
And now I realize I’m doing the same thing with Heather and April.
Not because they need the charity, but because I see Heather working hard, busting her ass as a single mom without any acknowledgment and very little help.
It reminds me of the sacrifices my parents made for me, and those sacrifices ended up killing them in the end.
“You still have practice today, don’t you?” Colin gives me a pointed look, and I belatedly realize I’ve been standing in the middle of the kitchen, lost in my own thoughts, for what feels like a very long time.
“Yeah, I’m on my way out the door now.” I open the fridge to grab a water bottle and a pre-portioned lunch container and toss them into my bag. “Do you need anything while I’m out? I think I’ll stop at the grocery store on my way home.”
He raises a brow, but only says, “No, thanks. I’m good. I’ll probably be finished here before you get back, anyway.”
“Okay, I’ll see you later, then. Let me know if you need anything.”
I turn to head out the door and smile to myself when he calls after me, “Drive safe!” like I’m his kid heading off to school instead of a grown man going to work.
But that’s one of the things I appreciate about him. He cares. I honestly didn’t expect him to when I first hired him. Not about me and my life, anyway.
He does, though. He cares about whether I’m eating healthy and taking care of myself in the off-season. He cares about who I surround myself with and doesn’t judge me when I basically live like a college student in this pretentious mansion.
A mansion that he also cares about, making sure the plants get watered and the windows get cleaned and that the garbage gets taken down to the curb on… whatever day the garbage truck comes.
I’m still distracted and thinking back on the morning’s events during my drive to the arena, but I try to put everything else aside from the upcoming practice out of my mind as I pull into the parking lot.
No matter what else I have going on outside this place, it’s hockey time for the next few hours.
It helps that pretty much nothing changes here from week to week. This is the place where the routine is strongest. Hell, this is the point of the routine.
At the end of the day, we’re all just a bunch of guys who come in, talk trash with our friends, and give everything we have to the sport we all love so much.
As always, I ignore most of the good-natured joking and head straight for my locker, methodically changing clothes and strapping on my gear for our warm-ups.
Noah greets me with a head nod and walks over to sit on the bench next to my locker. “Hey man, how’s it going?”
“Fine.” I look at him from the corner of my eye as he makes a point of lacing up his skates. It’s obvious there’s something going on. Even if his locker wasn’t at the other end of the room, Noah knows better than most people that I don’t do small talk. “What’s up?”
“Oh, nothing.” He shrugs and we both know he’s lying. “I just, uh, wanted to thank you again for everything you’re doing for Heather and April.”
I exhale, hoping this will be the end of the conversation before it turns awkward. Or more awkward than it already is.
“No big deal.” Now it’s my turn to shrug. “I didn’t do anything special. Anyone else would’ve done the same thing.”
“I don’t think so.” His tone is serious enough to make me pause this time. “Most people would have made sympathetic noises and maybe, maybe offered to help them book a hotel for the night. You offered them a place to live. Indefinitely.”
There’s a part of me that knows he’s right.
But I also know I’m not some kind of hero or knight in shining armor.
Heather could have—and would have—figured things out and made it happen on her own, without any help or input from me.
All I did was grease the wheels a little and hopefully saved her some stress.
“I had the space.” I pull my practice jersey on and try again to end the conversation. “I mean, I appreciate what you’re saying, but it wasn’t that big of a deal.”
“It’s a big deal to Heather. And to Margo. Knowing her sister and niece are taken care of by someone who doesn’t expect anything in return… it means everything to her.”
“I’m glad.” I don’t know what else to say, but I hope he’ll stop thanking me for simply doing the right thing. “Heather deserves most of the credit herself. She’s the one who holds it all together for herself and for her daughter.”
Noah grins and shakes his head. “You know, for someone who works so hard to convince everyone he’s a heartless bastard, you sure do a lot of really decent things.”
“Don’t tell anyone,” I mutter under my breath, which gets a laugh out of him.
“Your secret is safe with me, big guy. But seriously, thank you.”
I nod but don’t say anything else as I finish pulling my gear on. And I’m secretly glad when he heads back over to his own locker. The last thing I need is more analysis of my motivations or my supposedly hidden soft side.
Ten minutes later, we’re on the ice for warm-ups and I’m finally in my element. So much of what we do in practice is pure reflex and muscle memory, but I need this time—not just for the sake of staying on top of my game, but to turn off my brain and get outside my head for a little while every day.
And then the shit-talking starts back up again.
Reese skates up beside me as we’re doing laps with a grin so wide that I know he’s up to something. “So Parker, how’s domestic life treating you?”
I give him a hard look and a grunt, then pick up the pace. But half the team is within earshot, and the topic of my personal life is apparently too tempting for them to pass up.
Sawyer chimes in from my other side, “I never thought we’d see the day when Grant Parker has a kid running around the house.”
“She doesn’t run around the house,” I say, gritting my teeth and hating that I’m taking the bait. “She’s a good kid. A damn good kid.”
“No doubt she is,” Theo calls out from behind us. “But come on, man. You’re the guy who schedules his meals and color codes his training equipment. What happens when she starts leaving toys everywhere and eating your protein bars as snacks?”
The other guys laugh, and I know I should just let the jabs roll off my back, but I can’t seem to keep my mouth shut.
“It’s not like that,” I snap, making them laugh even harder. “She doesn’t leave toys or anything else lying around.”
“She’s on her best behavior right now, just like you are,” Reese says. “Give it a week, and you’ll be twitching every time she moves a couch cushion.”
“Or when she wants to watch cartoons during your meditation time,” Sawyer adds.
I want to tell them they don’t know what the hell they’re talking about, but maybe they have a point underneath all the teasing. Everything seems to be working out great so far, but maybe that’s only because we’re all on our best behavior, like Reese said.
So instead of telling the guys to shove it, the best I can do is grumble about how I don’t meditate.
Which, of course, they find hilarious.